Sins of the Father
by Orange-Green
Summary: Sequel to Paved with Good Intentions. Detective Santana Pierce-Lopez and District Attorney Quinn Fabray work to solve the latest string of murders. Brittana.


Sins of the Father

A/N - A sequal to Paved with Good Intentions. Santana and Brittany are happily married so expect fluff from them and a little drama along the way as Santana and Quinn work to piece together a new crime wave. Updates might not be quite as speedy as with past stories but I'll do my best. Thanks for stopping by! :)

Santana Pierce-Lopez squinted against the sun as she ran down one corridor and then another. She and her partner Noah "Puck" Puckerman were in pursuit of a drug dealer they had been tailing for days. He had agreed to turn state and testify against a murder suspect but had backed out at the last second and the murderer had gone free. That made him enemy number one in Detective Pierce-Lopez's books.

Santana saw the man cut left through an alley and she smirked. One thing Santana knew was criminals. Another was her City. And she knew exactly where that alleyway led. She felt her adrenaline pumping as she continued straight and took a left further down from the one she had seen the man run down. She propelled herself forward, determined to cut him off when she saw the end of her own alley just a few yards ahead.

She could hear his thundering footsteps nearing and she braced herself for the impact she knew was coming. When the fleeing man finally returned to her line of vision she growled slightly. His head was turned away from her, glancing over his shoulder to determine if she was still following him.

Santana lowered her own shoulder and plowed into the man, sending both of them sprawling against the far alley wall.

"Son of a bitch that hurt!" Santana yelled as she pulled herself to her feet, pistol drawn. "Simon McCutcheon, you are under arrest. You say anything and I'll use it against you in a court of law…and all that other bullshit. So you might as well just keep your fucking mouth shut because you are screwed."

She holstered her pistol and reached for her handcuffs to secure the still panting McCutcheon. With one of his hands cuffed, she turned her head just slightly when she heard someone approaching from behind. She couldn't help but sigh in relief at the sight of Puck running toward them instead of one of McCutcheon's junkie friends.

Before she could turn back to McCutcheon in front her, she felt something ram into her chest and throw her off balance. He seemed to move in slow motion. Before Santana could react properly, McCutcheon had pulled a small revolver from the back waistband of his pants and trained it on her with a trembling hand.

"Shit, put the gun down McCutcheon!" Puck called from behind her, leery of making any sudden movements.

Santana licked her lips calmly as she stared down the barrel of the gun, sizing up the small man in front of her. "Simon, come on now, you don't want to do anything stupid. And it would be really stupid to shoot a cop. Put the gun down."

McCutcheon began to shift nervously, pistol still trained on Santana. "Fuck you! Didn't you just say I'm screwed? So what does it matter if I shoot a cop?"

"Simon, come on now, be realistic." Santana replied, in her smoothest voice. "You know that anybody who hurts a cop is up there pretty high on the list of people fucked. Like royally fucked. You don't want to be housed with child molesters do you? A little guy like you won't last a month housed in there with them. You'll be some big hairy dude's bitch before the first week ends. So come on, just make the time you do have to serve easier on yourself and put the fucking gun down."

"Don't you understand, I'm already screwed!" the man cried. "If I testify, I'm a dead man. He'll make sure of it!"

McCutcheon's hand seemed to steady and Santana clenched her jaw, her body tensed and ready to lunge at him. "Come on you fucking asshat, wise your ass up and put down the gun!" she yelled.

McCutcheon's nostrils flared and his jaw muscles clenched a fraction of a second before Santana registered the pain shooting through her chest. As she felt herself falling backwards, her only thought was of shining blue eyes, flowing blonde hair, and a bright smile.

_Brittany. Shit, she's going to be pissed. And really worried. _Santana thought as she felt her body hit the ground. She didn't even register Puck's yell or the sound of him firing three rounds from his own gun. Or the grunt from McCutcheon as he too flew backwards and landed with a thud.

Santana noticed her vision blurring as a figure leaned over her. Puck was yelling at her. _What the fuck is he yelling at me for? He should be yelling at the dumb fuck that shot me._

As Santana felt her eyes closing, she vaguely remembered Brittany reminding her to take her Kevlar vest with her that morning.

xxxx

Santana opened her eyes and yelped as she felt pain shoot through her again. Puck was again leaning over her, this time with a wide grin.

"Satan, how many times do I have to tell you not to insult someone with a gun pointed at you?"

Santana tried to laugh but the movement sent a new sting of pain through her chest and she found herself wheezing instead. Finally regaining her bearings, she glanced around and realized she was in an ambulance, which explained the painful jolt that had awoken her.

"The fuck…" she muttered.

"You're fine." Puck said with a chuckle. "Shot at point blank range rattled you but no major damage. You be sure to thank blondie for reminding you to wear that bullet proof vest today."

"What?" Santana mumbled. "All this shit and I wasn't even really shot?"

"Oh you were shot. Your vest just saved your damn life. The vest that you never wear. The vest that I keep telling you to wear because you have a horrible habit of pissing off people with guns. Now shut the fuck up and try to relax. We're almost to the hospital."

Santana continued to argue and insist that she wasn't shot so she didn't need to go to a hospital but Puck and the medics insisted. And no amount of Spanish curse words would change their minds.

"Oh God, Puck." Santana finally exclaimed. "You cannot tell Brittany! She is going to freak out! Please tell me you didn't call her."

"Relax Santana, I told her you got shot but that it's no big deal. She's meeting us at the hospital."

Puck laughed and quickly dodged the backhand she tried to deliver to his face. Luckily for him, the movement made her hiss in pain and the remainder of the trip was spent in silent brooding on her part.

xxxx

Santana was sitting up in the hospital bed drumming her fingers anxiously against her thigh a short time later. Puck had stayed with her long enough to be certain she was indeed alright and then headed out to sort out the paperwork that would come with his fatal shooting of McCutcheon. Santana was simply waiting for what she knew was coming. At the clatter of a nurse's tray being toppled, followed by a rushed apology, and the loud "thwack" of flip flops running down the hall, she cringed.

"Santana! Oh my God! Are you ok?" Brittany came bounding into the room, a flurry of long limbs and pure panic. "Baby? Answer me, oh God San? How many fingers am I holding up? What's today's date? Seriously, I can't remember!"

Santana tried to shush Brittany but the blonde was too intent on determining the Latina's injuries for herself.

"Santana, can you not hear me? You're not answering. Oh God, is your brain swelling, did you hit your head? Do you smell burnt feathers? Wait, I think that's a sign of a brain tumor…Oh God, you have a brain tumor!"

The brunette then grabbed Brittany's wrists and pulled her hands gently away from where they were gripping her tan cheeks a little too tightly.

"Britt, babe calm down." She tried to soothe. "I was shot in the shoulder, my brain isn't swelling. And I'm fine, I swear. The bullet didn't even hit me, see?"

She pulled the gown down to show a bright purple bruise already forming where the bullet had hit the vest. Brittany wiped at her tears and sniffled, still eyeing the bruise.

"I thought you said the bullet didn't hit you?" she said softly.

Santana chuckled. "It didn't. The vest stopped it from hitting me. The vest that you reminded me to wear this morning, remember?"

Brittany finally tore her eyes away from the bruise and met Santana's dark brown gaze. "So you're really ok?"

The brunette sighed and thumbed another tear away from Brittany's pale face. "Yeah babe, I promise, I'm ok."

"Oh thank God." Brittany mumbled before throwing herself on top of the Latina. She barely registered Santana's yelp of pain before settling onto the side of the bed and pulling her close.

They remained quiet for a few minutes; both holding each other tightly before Brittany propped herself up on one elbow and pursed her lips. Santana knew it as a sign that the blonde was mulling something over in her mind.

"Britt?" Santana said softly, her gaze questioning.

"So…the vest saved your life huh?" Brittany finally responded. At Santana's nod, she continued. "The vest that I have to keep reminding you to wear every single day. The vest that you only wear like once every green moon."

"_Blue_ moon babe." Santana softly interrupted.

"So not the point here Santana. The vest that you've only worn once in the last month because I begged you to take it this morning and I said you'd get no sexy times tonight if you didn't. Do you know what this means?"

Santana groaned inwardly but tried to smile lovingly at her wife. "What's it mean baby?"

"I'm pretty sure it means I helped save your life. I'm totally like a superhero now. I'm even more awesome than I realized." Brittany replied, a look of awe on her face.

Santana laughed and buried her head in the blonde's neck. "You're right babe. You're totally a superhero…you're my superhero."

The brunette began placing light kisses along Brittany's jaw line and neck, her grip around the blonde's waist tightening. Brittany moaned and ran a hand through Santana's hair; finally tilting her head up so their lips could meet. When they finally pulled away, both were a little breathless.

"You scared me Santana. I thought I'd lost you."

"Not a chance babe." Santana replied firmly. "No sleazy drug dealer is going to be the death of me. I'm going to die old and gray in our bed. Hopefully working up a sweat in that bed with you."

Brittany laughed at Santana's suggestive smirk. She gently cupped the brunette's cheek. "That's the only way I'll die happy, sexy times with my wifey."

"Speaking of which…" Santana purred. "I got shot. I think that means you have to take care of me. I'm picturing that little nurse number I wore in high school…only shorter."

"Oh yeah!" Brittany laughed. "The one you wore when you spread mono through half of the school. Don't you worry San; I'll take good care of you. My brave copper wife, fighting bad guys, coming home all stiff and sore and shot. I'll fix you right up."

Santana whimpered at Brittany's husky tone and pulled her closer. "Sweet Jesus, I think I'm ready to draw that curtain around the bed. What do you think baby?"

"Oh for the love of God, don't you two ever quit? You've been shot for fuck's sakes!"

Both Santana and Brittany startled and turned toward the figure standing in the doorway. Quinn Fabray was smirking and shaking her head. She sighed before moving further into the hospital room.

"Here I am, running across town like a mad woman when I hear that one of my best friends has been shot only to arrive and find her practically dry humping the IV stand. To think I postponed putting a wife beater behind bars to make sure you were ok. Are you sure this wasn't just all a ruse to spice up your boring married life?"

"Boring married life?" Santana scoffed. "Bite your tongue Fabray. Our married life is fucking smoking. And I was legitimately, honest to God shot today. You have to be nice to me so…go get me a damn diet coke."

"Fat chance." Quinn muttered, settling onto the edge of the bed. "Seriously, are you ok?"

Santana smirked and nodded. "Ain't no bullet gonna take me down. I'm invincible bitch, you know this. Got an awesome bruise to show for it though."

She pulled the gown back down again and smirked once again at Quinn's grimace. Brittany whimpered beside her and she glanced over, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

"Can we stop talking about it?" Brittany mumbled. "It makes me sad. You could have been hurt bad Santana, it's not funny."

"I know baby, I know!" Santana replied, placing a kiss to the blonde's temple. "I'm ok, I promise. In fact I'm just waiting for the nurses to bring my paperwork and I can checkout and go home. Where I fully expect to be tended to by Nurse Brittany."

Quinn groaned and Brittany just burrowed deeper into Santana's arms.

"We're going home and I'll take care of you alright." Brittany said softly. "But there will be no strain…streng…_strenuous_ activity until I'm satisfied you're really ok. Bed rest Santana, I mean it!"

Santana chuckled. "Ok, bed rest and no strenuous activity. It's not strenuous if you're doing all the work and I'm just laying there. In fact I think that will be awes-_ow_! Son of a bitch!"

The brunette yelped as both Quinn and Brittany swatted at her, the former more strongly than the latter and intentionally aiming for her injured shoulder.

An hour later, Santana was still grumbling at the loss of sexy times as she was settled into a wheelchair and headed for home. Suddenly a thought came to her and her face lit up with hope.

"Babe, can we swing by Moe's on the way home?"

Brittany snorted a laugh. "Absolutely not. You're going home to rest Santana Pierce-Lopez."

"Oh come on Britt." Santana was not above whining to convince her wife to stop by her favorite bar, not by a long shot. "I got shot today, I'll get free drinks! I'll be a total stud in there."

"You're going to be my stud at home safe and sound in your jammies and fuzzy slippers. And if you behave I might put that naughty nurse outfit on and help you relax." The blonde replied.

Santana twisted slightly in her chair and gazed up at Brittany, a new look of hope on her face. "Really?" At Brittany's grin and nod, the brunette gave a fist pump before turning and settling back into the chair. "I am so lucky you married me!"

xxxx

Brittany insisted on keeping a firm grip on Santana as they climbed the steps to their apartment. The brunette insisted in return that she was fine but Brittany simply raised an eyebrow and Santana sighed and allowed the blonde to practically carry her in.

They were met by their Great Dane, Jorge, at the door. Brittany had insisted that he be named Jorge so they could also call him George on occasion. It would make him bilingual the blonde reasoned. Santana had rolled her eyes and pointed out that it was more of a human name than dog but Brittany just shrugged and said, "We want him to feel like part of the family right? What better way to show him he's one of us than to give him a human name?" The large dog was welcomed with a rueful smile from the Latina.

"Hi Georgie!" Brittany said brightly as the big animal greeted them at the door. "Now you have to be careful with mama San, she got shot by a bad guy today."

Jorge cocked his head slightly and whimpered before scampering away to hide under the kitchen table.

"How can such a huge ass dog be such a pansy?" Santana muttered.

Brittany ignored the comment and led Santana back to their bedroom. The pain medication the brunette had been given at the hospital was beginning to wear off so Brittany decided not to let Santana's mood bother her. She helped the Latina change into sweats and a tank top before giving her a new dose of medication.

"Thanks Britts." Santana mumbled when the drugs were finally taking effect. "Tell Jorge that I'm sorry too. I didn't mean it. He listens to you…the big pansy."

Brittany smiled tenderly and laced her fingers through Santana's. She scooted closer to the smaller woman on the bed and tenderly kissed her forehead. "He knows you didn't mean it San. He was just scared…just like I was."

Santana lazily opened her eyes and tried to focus on Brittany. "Baby, don't be scared…I'm totally fine…solid baby."

"I know, I just…I don't like to see you hurt San. I kinda need you around so don't go anywhere ok? And promise you'll wear your vest every day from now on."

Santana brought Brittany's hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles. "I promise Britt. I'll be more careful. 'Member, you promised naughty nurse B."

The blonde chuckled. "I remember San. Now you go to sleep and when you wake up, I'll order whatever you want for dinner."

"Chinese." Santana said with a resolute nod, her eyes falling closed again.

"Ok baby. I'll even make sure they send extra fortune cookies."

Brittany remained by Santana's side until she was certain the brunette was sound asleep before quietly slipping out of the room.

xxxx

When Puck finally convinced Brittany that he wasn't negligent or responsible for Santana's shooting, he finished up the paperwork and decided to head home for the evening. It had taken a lot of convincing on his part that he too had tried to force Santana to wear the bullet proof vest but the stubborn Latina said it did nothing for her figure. Brittany could understand her wife's strong will so she finally sighed and invited him to dinner that night. He had politely refused, saying he had other plans.

Puck whistled as he crossed the street and headed into the courthouse and prosecuting attorney's offices. When he saw the light on at the far end of the top floor, he smiled and slowly ambled toward the office.

Quinn looked up upon hearing Puck enter and smiled.

"You know, anyone could just walk in here." Puck said with a sly grin. "You really should do something about the security in this joint. Wouldn't want the wrong sort of guy to just waltz into your office unannounced."

The blonde smirked and swiftly reached under the drawer directly above her lap and produced an impressive looking silver handgun. "I think I can take care of myself. Besides, the security here is better than you think. If you were actually anybody to be concerned about you wouldn't have even gotten in the front door."

"Easy Mama, you know how to use that thing?" Puck laughed, hands up as if in self defense.

"Of course, Santana taught me." Quinn replied. "I'm a lot tougher than I was in high school."

"Oh God! You were a hard ass back then, I'm afraid to even be alone in the room with you now. You might shoot me just for the hell of it."

Quinn smiled, though not altogether kindly, with a glint in her eyes. "I might shoot you for not making Santana wear her damn vest like she's supposed to. Aren't you her partner? Aren't you supposed to be looking out for each other?"

Puck realized the tone of the conversation had turned quite serious and he sighed. "Why does everyone think this is my fault? Brittany yelled at me for an hour…Brittany never yells! You think I'm not fucking kicking myself for not trying harder to make her wear it? You think I didn't want to trade places with her when I saw her lying there on the ground? She's my partner Quinn. She's like a sister to me and if you think for one second-"

"Ok, ok Puck." Quinn interrupted with a sigh, relaxing back into her seat. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't your fault. I'm just a little stressed out with this case I've got going and then when I heard Santana…she and Britt are my best friends…If anything happened to either of them-"

"I get it Quinn, I know." Puck said softly. "But she's fine. And hopefully this is just the kick in the ass she needed to be more careful. I'm pretty sure Brittany will set her straight. Hell, Brittany scared the shit out of me tonight. She may look all innocent and peace loving but when it comes to San, that girl is fierce! Fierce Pierce."

Quinn laughed and nodded. "She is indeed. Guess since they were apart so long they're just a little protective of each other."

"No doubt." Puck agreed. "So, what's this big case you're working on? One of my stellar arrests?"

Quinn signed and nudged the file closer to Puck who had perched on the side of her desk. "One of Santana's actually. Brent Williams, charged with killing his wife. We had an eye witness who was willing to come to court to testify but she was found murdered earlier this morning."

"No shit?" Puck replied. "Brent Williams, he's nobody important. How do you think he could get someone to take out the witness? Who would care enough about him to want to help?"

Quinn rubbed her forehead. "Who knows. I wouldn't think much of it if this was the first time a witness has been killed. But Ms. Macy is actually the third witness to turn up dead in the last two months."

"Maybe there's some connection? Maybe all these flunkies were working together and some higher up is trying to get his guys back out on the streets?" Puck wondered aloud.

"I don't know, maybe." The blonde responded quietly. "But then why aren't any other DA's witnesses turning up dead? All three cases have been mine. Come to think of it, all three arrests have been Santana's. Ugh, I need a vacation."

Puck dropped a hand on Quinn's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I'm sure it's all just a coincidence. And if there is a connection, I have no doubt you'll figure it out. Probably just a bunch of creeps turning on each other. And yeah, you do need a vacation, you're working yourself too hard."

"Yeah." She replied absentmindedly. "I'm sure you're right. I just can't shake the feeling I'm missing something. And Santana is going to be pissed that another of her arrests will probably go free without that witness."

"Well, there's nothing you can do about that tonight so what do you say we call it a night? We can pick up some grub, swing by and check on our favorite lezzies and make sure Santana is all in one piece…you know Brittany will have you smiling again in no time."

Quinn narrowed her gaze at him before she finally smiled. "Yeah, ok. I'm sure Santana is trying, unsuccessfully, to get Brittany into bed. Let's go interrupt and ruin her fun. B was ordering Chinese so we can pick up desert on the way over."

"Awesome." Puck replied with a grin.

The two slipped out of the office and headed to their friends' apartment, all thoughts of the long day and troublesome case momentarily forgotten.


End file.
